


The Devil I Once Knew

by honeymink



Category: The Borgias
Genre: F/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymink/pseuds/honeymink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever seen the devil and does he come in red?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil I Once Knew

**Author's Note:**

> written for 'The Borgias' kink meme (at somebody's request, not mine), this is the somewhat improved version without the late night spelling mistakes

All that had turned to frost with her, saw a grave in the skies.

"Not a word more! It is decided!" Cesare yelled and Vanozza stared at him tight-lipped, appalled by his pitilessness. When he departed her gaze sank until her eyes reflected nothing but a parched wasteland.

And then Lucrezia's light eyes danced merrily and Cesare always with her. The young Duke of Bisceglie caught Vanozza's stare. So it was public knowledge now.

"Why do you force this false joy upon us?" she confronted Cesare once he understood decorum asked for Lucrezia to dance with her betrothed. Her face held high, her eyes piercing his. He looked away.

***

When Cesare's gaze finally fell on her again, the shadows almost killed his father's light. In his chambers, Rodrigo cried and was nursed, cried and was kissed and cradled in Vanozza's arms. The agonies of death endured there. She heard her own voice, distant, screaming for the physican, screaming for an emetic.

Cesare forbid a vigil. Come morning light, Rodrigo would recover, he was certain.

"This useless clamour," Cesare spat at her coldly. "A calm breath and this ends here!"

Her throat went dry and her eyes burnt looking at him, yet a harsh derisive smile played around the corners of her mouth. "What happened to you, Cesare? You were such a lovely child."

Lucrezia had long taken to bed, crying. Vanozza wondered if her daughter cried over her father's distress or over the ruined festivities. Once, Vanozza thought, she had had four children. She wondered how many she had now? She was wearied by recent events. Suddenly caring, Cesare guided her to his chambers, and onto his bed.

Vehemently, he forced a chalice in her hands. Vanozza tasted mulled whine, mandrake, opium poppy. Tears streaming down her face, as she emptied the glass, and another at Cesare's insistance. His fine crimson robes lay torn on the floor. She wondered if she had ever seen the devil. And did he come in red? Or was he merely some harrowing manifestation? She thought, 'Yahweh, how long will I cry, and you will not hear?' Numb, she felt her son's fingers loosening the strings of her gown. His facial expression hard and unfeeling again as he removed her garments.

"Juan," he suddenly said. "He wanted us to be brothers, to drink the milk of the poppies together."

His fingernails tore through her skin, leaving no wounds to mend. He slipped his hand into the fork of her crotch. Two fingers digging into her heat, Cesare kissed her chastely on the cheek.

"I could smell the opium. And I thought about it, mother. Juan and I, we would drink it in like milk. We would drink it at night, we would drink it at daybreak, at noon. Drink it and drink it."

She listened with eyes closed, voluntarily renouncing every sight of the world and her son in particular for a few breathtaking seconds. He was all attention now.

"And his cock, mother, begging me to reach out and grab him."

Staring at the bed's canopy, the tears had dried and yet she was paralysed, her limbs so heavy, his fingers working so hard in her.

"I wanted to fall on my knees and soothe his pain," Cesare breathed heavily. "Suck him and suck him, my dear Juan. Father would have been so proud, would he not?"

A rasp chuckle escaping his throat, his cock so hard, he had a tough time wrestling it out of his black trousers. Roughly he grabbed her hand, made her run her fingers down the side of it, barely touching it. Vanozza felt him shiver.

"And then," he panted guiding her sweaty hand to milk his balls until they jangled. "I wanted to kick him, let the rain blow into his flesh, stomp him to bits on the floor."

The speed with which the blackness circled around her made her sick to her stomach. Vanozza was drunk.

"And then," he exhaled and she felt him spasm, shuddering as his release came. "I killed him."

As if suddenly seized by a fit of tenderness, her sticky hand pulled his pants up over his spent prick. Her face vacant, her mind spinning, she lay next to Cesare who buried his face in her armpit before slowly turning, his beard scratching her as he suckled on her breast. Then she felt his tears wetting her skin and Vanozza gently stroked his forehead.

Eventually exhaustion overcame him. Vanozza, however, was dizzy, her thoughts scattered. At first light, she felt control over her legs again, Vanozza got up. Tired so tired. Silently walking up to the window, she stared down on Rome and felt nothing.

Later, much later, Vanozza, dressed again, might very well have fallen asleep if Cesare had not stood up beside her and brushed the snow from her fatigues and said, "You are freezing here, mother. Are we supposed to freeze to death?"

She wondered what he felt, if he felt at all.

"Don't leave me, mother," he asked and sounded like her son again.

A hint of a cruel smile spread across her face, Vanozza's eyes met his all the while.

"You're my son, Cesare. Like Joffre." She paused. "Like Juan."

Again her gaze fell on the torn up clerical robes on the floor. She picked up the cassock, that he wanted to get rid of so desperately. 

Her voice was unyielding, "I shall fix it for you. And it shall be as good as new. And you will wear it."

 

**~Fin~**


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